Ten Reasons Why Writers Make Good Neighbors

This morning, I was awoken to the sounds of saws and dump trucks as road construction continued just outside. And it got me thinking: if you could pick your neighbor, you should always go with a writer.

Writers are quiet. When we’re building something, all you’re hear is a clatter (along with a few incoherent grumbles and the slurp of tea or coffee, perhaps). When we delete something, there’s a few clicks or the backspace button (followed by more grumbling and perhaps a few choice words that don’t belong in polite conversation). We won’t wake the neighborhood. In fact, if our creativity is very successful, we might not even venture outside the house.

Writers are friendly. Sure, we might just be watching you, noting your mannerisms so we can use them in our next novel, but at least we’re interested in you, right?

Writers are discreet. We know when to give people space. We can mind our own business and lose ourselves in the world of our stories to where you won’t even know we’re there. We’re unlikely to be the bored, poke our head over the fence every time you’re outside types. (We might zone out of conversations and be the last to notice your house is on fire, though.)

Writers have pets. Whether its a cat, dog, or a canary, writers will usually contribute to the humane benevolence of your neighborhood, sheltering one, or two…or ten such creatures.

Writers are distinguished. Our books might have been published through our own efforts, at our own expenses, and they might not be earning enough to pay for cable. Or the internet. Or electricity. But you can still say you live next to a published author. What an honor for you!

Writers will improve your grammar. We’ll kindly correct you if you use the wrong syntax, or if you’ve gotten into the habit of saying, “who” instead of “whom.” All for free!

Writers don’t have wild parties. Or visitors. Unless you count all the imaginary characters coming to and fro…the dragons, the elves, the dwarves. The dashing heroes. The children and talking animals. That sort of thing.

Writers can harness all the odd bits of trivia you know. We might ask odd questions and talk about imaginary people as though they’re real, but we let you finally feel like a genius for knowing how long it takes for a burn to heal or how many phases there are in the moon.

Writers are gentle people. Harmless, really. Even if we research how to poison someone or what a gun sounds with a silencer. We’d never kill a…living soul?

Writers can always recommend a good book. It’s like living next to a librarian. We know what you should and shouldn’t read, and we can always direct you to something you haven’t touched. Even if it does have our name on it.